S and I had a long talk the other night. It was a long time coming. We talked about babies.
I had brought up the topic of having another child (?) on many occasions, only to hear, "Let's talk about it later." or "Let's just see what happens." We had agreed months ago to let nature take it's course. No preventing. If it happens, it happens. This fed the mama hormones in me nicely. Mmmmm... Baby thoughts. The biological clock ticked quietly.
But there were no +'s on my tests month after month. 2 week waits (the time between ovulation and testing) came and went. There were tears. Why wasn't this working? Would it take another 3 years to have another one? What happens if it doesn't... happen?
So, I said it. "How far to we push this? How far do we go? How badly do WE want another child?" I knew the answer before he responded, before he finally sighed and told me what he was thinking. It was obvious that he wasn't as "desperate" (for lack of a better word) as I was. But I pretended I didn't know. "You want to really try for another one, don't you?"
I'm not going to lie, it hurt.
"This is why I didn't want to say anything. I didn't want to hurt you. But I don't want to try everything to have another one. If it happens, it happens, but I'm happy the way things are now."
We talked about reasons. His are very valid. Mine are very valid. We agreed, over all, that were in this as a team, together. We would figure this out. We talked and cried and hugged and talked some more and we ended up in the same place, but different.
I watched part of a special on the weekend called 'It Might Get Loud" and a quote that the Edge (*swoon*) said, stuck with me:
"When you go past a managed forest, you see a mass of tree trunks. Then at a certain point, you look again, and you realize they are all in perfect rows. Clarity. Clarity of vision. What you've been looking at from the wrong angle and not seeing at all. You labor. You sweat to see what you couldn't have seen from that other perspective."
- The Edge, in It Might Get Loud.
I was wandering through that forest, before our talk, trying to get some form of clarity. Not knowing what I was really looking at, only seeing things from my one perspective. Then S finally opened up, pulled me aside and showed me the rows. Finally. Clarity. Raw, searing, truthful clarity.
There is a good chance that J will be an only child. I'm becoming okay with that.
It's going to take time to use up the tests, to stop tracking my cycles, to not flinch when someone asks "When are you having another one, eh?!" but the more I talk to S about it, and the more I reach into my own psyche, the only thing I can see are those lines of trees.
And even though I'm not perfectly okay with that, I'm getting there.